


in the closet

by inacolloquialsense



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, dry humping in a closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inacolloquialsense/pseuds/inacolloquialsense
Summary: puns made me do it. i started laughing to myself at the idea. i don’t know really. it’s kind of naughty, but nothing really graphic. no dangly bits





	in the closet

**Author's Note:**

> based off: Can you do Q and Murr almost getting caught (if you know what I mean) *wink*

There’s some kind of animal fur in James’ mouth. Who wears fur coats in this day and age. It’s tacky and in poor taste. He rubs the tips of his fingers on his tongue again and Q frowns at him.

“Yeah, keep doing that please. You’re making me so hot.” He says dryly, face scrunched. In retrospect it wasn’t a good idea to drag his boyfriend into the coat room. The confined space and isolation seemed ideal two minutes ago. It was great until James backed him into the door too roughly, causing the handle to break. Sitting pitifully on the carpet, staring up at them with accusation.

Still struggling to not swallow a hairball, Murr sticks his tongue out further at Quinn. Mumbling around it, “Thuck you.” Brian leans closer and plucks off the offending strands. “Thanks.” His smile turns down at the corners of his mouth when Q rubs slobber and hair over his suit.

“I don’t know shit about locks.” He picks up the doorknob and swivels it in the light. “But this doesn’t seem right.”

“Give me that.” James takes it from Q and musters up false bravado. Panic rises in his chest at being trapped. At least he looks like he knows what he’s doing. He blindly gropes at the hole where the stem part used to fit. Jagged metal weakened by time. It’s a wonder this didn’t happen by someone trying to open the door normally. “I -uh-. It’s supposed to -umm-.” He interrupts himself, not following any train of thought in particular. It’s been a while since his face has gotten this hot. Skin itching, hair prickling, air in his lungs agitated enough to make him cough into his fist.

Flustered. Man’s most perfect state. This man’s most perfect state. Brian rakes his eyes over him. His brain says prey, and it’s all beautiful. Murr must do this shit on purpose. “Hey. C’mere.”

Take two. From the top. Once more with feeling.

Face cradled gently between his hands, James drops the handle with a dull thud against the ground. Allows himself to be pinned to the door. What is it that arms do. He swears they had a place one second ago. Now he’s grasping weakly at Q’s sides, and it’s hard to think. Maybe that was the point of this. He becomes absorbed by it. Soft skin, coarse beard, hot tongue. Quinn himself pressing into him. Surrounded in a safe sort of way. Eclipsed.

Hands wander south. Brian smirks into the embrace when Murray grabs his ass. He’s pulled closer. Hips grinding through too many layers. “Wait a second. I’ve always wanted to-” Q paws around until he has a firm grip under each of James’ thighs. Hoists him up handily, enjoying the weight in his arms. Slight tingly burn.

“I love you.” He gets out in between shaky breathes. His legs hook around Quinn. James forms a fist in the back of Brian’s hair. Takes what is his in another kiss. He aches in his now, ill-fitting suit. There’s little relief when Q rocks into him. Friction is lost between all the cloth. “Harder.”

Efforts are doubled. Mistakes are made. James hears the door creak in protest first. In the back of his head there’s a voice telling him to say something about it, but then there’s Q. Murr knows there will be hand prints on him tomorrow. Capillaries break and release his blood to be trapped in his tissues. Pale flesh marred by darker shades for the next few days until his body reabsorbs and goes back to equilibrium. 

Under their weight and rigorous activity the door gives in. Swings open. Q falls forward, Murr falls back. Even more bruises. “Oh shit. Fuck.” They get the wind kicked out of them, and Brian rolls over, trying to get off of James as fast as possible. For a minute they wheeze on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Murray reaches out his arm without looking. Able to quickly find the warm body beside him. “It was really good up until the last part.”

There’s footsteps from somewhere beyond their line of vision. “Christ. How drunk are you two? Get up.” It’s Sal. “Oh my god. Did you two break the door?” A cursory glance of splintered wood and the broken handle confirms it. “That thing must be an antique. They’re going to make us pay for that.” He kicks softly at their shoulders, nudging them up. “I’m telling you right now. I’m not going to spend a dime on your accounts. No way. You two are footing the bill for that yourselves. Assholes.” He shakes his head.

They follow behind him, tails between their legs.


End file.
